"Who-where am I?" Ethan asked as he tried to stand up, suddenly all of his memories came rushing back to him and he fell back down to the ground. "Don't worry, that's the usual reaction to a successful ritual branding." Dominator shallow white said.
"Oh…is that so.." Ethan murmured as he stood up and dusted himself off, "so what does this 'soul branding' do?" Ethan asked unable to hide he's curiosity, "a soul branding prevents any low sequences of the dominator pathway from hurting your soul." Shallow white explained.
"Mister faceless, please sit down and let us begin the first meeting with our new member. The new member is, Mister faceless, Alaric thorn." Shallow white said as Ethan sat down back on the bronze chair, after the meeting had conluded, he had found out the names of the other members in the heretic club.
Shallow white, victor William, James August, Murphy coreila, Jack Brown, Elbert gorge, and the newest member, Ethan gray himself, or Alaric thorn..
He didn't know Madame shallow white's full name yet, and Ethan gray had just committed treason by joining the heretics, for they betrayed their country, because use of tarot cards were forbidden and considered a taboo. The heretics plan to overthrow leopold's goverment and then the emperor of morgana himself, Arthur Augustus, Leopold will be under he's rule in five months.
For joining the heretic, shallow white and mister victor have agreed to help detective gray in the serial murder case.
Timmy the dove sat upon Ethan's fedora as victor and Madame white walked beside Ethan, victor and madame shallow white had agreed to go and investigate to see what they could find, which left Ethan by himself with timmy the dove.
"Any useless hints Timmy?" Ethan asked Timmy, "Not yet, wait let me see." Timmy said as he flew up into the sky and started radiating pure light, "ahh! Elderson home estate." Timmy said and Ethan hummed..
'Elder sons again? Just like the elderson graveyard?…Seems like the elderson family is behind everything." Ethan mused as he quickened hes pace and Timmy flew beside him.
The elderson home estate was near the lake of Cumae, that wasn't far from here, as Ethan continued he's journey to the estate, Timmy spoke again, giving him more insight. "You know, since you're on the investigator pathway, why don't you use your tarot card's abilities? Oh right…You have a face shifting tarot card…anyways even something like that might be useful." Timmy said as Ethan asked,
"How so?" As Timmy explained, "the face shifting card allows its wielded to remember the faces of all people they come across."
'Hmm…definitely useful.' Ethan thought as he stood outside the gate of the elderson estate. There didn't seem to be anyone home as he opened the gate and walked towards the doors of this large mansion. It wasn't some modern mansion from he's old world, but it was still a mansion.
But as he stepped inside, the mansion was eerily silent—no sign of the Eldersons. Dust clung to the grand staircase as he ascended, his footsteps the only sound in the vast emptiness. Eventually, he reached the family's study, the domain of Marcus Elderson, the Scholar.
When he pushed open the heavy wooden door, the sight before him was grotesque. Marcus Elderson was there—crucified to the wall, his mouth sewn shut. Deep gashes marred his chest, forming a chilling message carved into his flesh:
"Silence is consent."
"Oh Lord… ugh…" Timmy the dove recoiled in disgust, his feathers ruffling. He called himself the King of Angels, after all—perhaps this world was simply too impure for him.
Ethan exhaled sharply. So the murderers aren't the Elderson sons…? The thought lingered as he moved through the mansion, opening door after door. When he reached the bathroom, a strange sensation prickled at his skin—an unshakable unease.
Pushing open the door, he found her. Vivian Elderson, the Philanthropist.
She was drowned in holy water, her hands pressed together in a mockery of prayer. A single note lay beside her, ink smudged from the lingering dampness:
"A kind hand that feeds the wicked only fattens the wolves."
Ethan's stomach twisted. The sight alone was enough to make him gag, but he forced himself to stay composed—to think, not react. Timmy, on the other hand, wasn't as strong.
"Oh God Almighty…" the dove murmured, struggling not to retch.
The next victim was Jonathan Elderson, the Judge. His body had been arranged with unsettling precision—his eyes gouged out and placed on a scale, his severed hands clutching the shattered remains of a gavel. A grim mockery of justice.
Ethan exhaled, surveying the scene. Why target the elder sons first…? he mused aloud.
A familiar voice cut through the silence.
"Hey, looks like you beat me here."
Ethan turned as Victor stepped into the room, hands in his pockets, his usual easygoing demeanor at odds with the carnage around them.
"Madame White had other matters to handle, so she sent me to babysit you instead," Victor added.
Ethan didn't bother responding to the jab. "Any leads? The graveyard, the alleyway, and now this… anything?"
Victor shook his head. "Nothing solid."
As expected, the final victim was next—Lillian Elderson, the Matriarch.
She had been burned alive inside the family church, reduced to ashes that had been arranged into an eerie sigil on the stone floor. Nearby, the killer had left a final message, one that sent a chill down Ethan's spine:
"God does not permit evil. He demands it."
"Hmm…Why does god permit evil…is that supposed to be a puzzle?.." Victor mused..as Ethan shrugged, "Evil is not a flaw in God's design—it is His design. A world without suffering would be a world without His entertainment, and what is creation if not a grand stage for His cruelty?" Ethan said as he lifted he's fedora.
"True." Victor added, a sigh left Victor as he cracks he's knuckles…"there might be more clues."
The Elderson Pact: A Legacy of Blood
The pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fall into place, but the image they formed was far more horrifying than Ethan had anticipated.
As he sifted through the dust-laden archives of the Elderson estate, he came across an ancient manuscript, its leather binding cracked with age. The ink had faded, but the words burned themselves into his mind:
"Evil is neither test nor accident—it is divine law. To permit it is to obey. To suffer it is to worship. And to commit it… is to ascend."
A chill crawled down his spine. This wasn't just philosophy—this was a doctrine, one that had been passed down through the Elderson bloodline.
He read on, piecing together a secret long buried. Generations ago, the Eldersons had struck a pact with a powerful religious sect. In exchange for their wealth and influence, they had bound themselves to an ancient covenant—one that may have demanded sacrifice.
And then there was the missing heir.
Decades ago, a child had been abandoned, erased from all records, exiled for being born under an "ill omen." A child who should not have lived. But they had.
Ethan clenched his jaw. That child would be an adult now—an outsider, one with a vendetta, one who knew the truth.
One who might be returning to claim their rightful place… with blood.
Ethan shared his findings with Victor, his voice low but firm. The weight of the Elderson family's sins was undeniable, and if his theory was correct, the killer was watching them.
His suspicions were confirmed a second later.
A tarot card whistled through the air, aimed straight at Victor.
Reacting on instinct, Victor flicked his wrist, summoning his own tarot card—a battlefield removal one, designed to purge dark magic from the field. With a practiced motion, he countered the attack, the opposing forces clashing midair before dispersing into embers.
Then, as if stepping from the shadows themselves, a figure materialized. A woman.
The killer.
Before Ethan could process the moment, Victor had already engaged her, the two exchanging rapid strikes, their movements precise and lethal. Ethan gritted his teeth, gripping his own tarot card—a face-shifting one, his only real tool in a fight like this.
Not exactly ideal.
Still, he refused to stand idly by. As Victor kept the killer occupied, Ethan moved in, looking for his opening.
The Final Confrontation
Ethan lunged forward, twisting his body midair as he drove his foot into the woman's gut. She barely staggered, but the moment's hesitation was all he needed. His past life as a detective had given him more than just a sharp mind—it had taught him how to fight. His martial arts training kicked in as he shifted his stance, ready to counter.
Victor was already moving beside him, fluid and precise, his strikes keeping the killer off balance. Together, they fought—Ethan analyzing her movements, Victor capitalizing on every opening. The woman was fast, but so were they.
I can't let this killer escape. I need to solve this case, Ethan thought, his determination sharpening his focus.
As if reading his mind, the killer smirked.
"Killing me won't be easy," she taunted, leaping back effortlessly.
What followed was a display of acrobatic precision—Ethan, Victor, and the killer weaving through the fight like dancers in a deadly performance. Victor twisted through the air, flipping over the woman as he pulled out a second tarot card—one meant to end this.
But she was ready.
A pulse of dark magic crackled in the air as she twisted her fingers, summoning a gust of wind. The force sent Victor's tarot card flying out of his grasp.
Victor cursed under his breath. "Faceless! Quickly! Grab the card and shout 'Purge'!" he barked, blocking the killer's next strike to buy Ethan time.
"Got it!" Ethan launched himself toward the card, pushing through the air's resistance. But the killer wasn't about to let him win so easily—she twisted, grabbing Victor and hurling him into a wall with inhuman strength before sprinting toward the floating card.
For a moment, it was a race.
But Ethan was faster.
He snatched the card out of the air, spun on his heel, and slammed it into her face.
"Purge!" he shouted.
The tarot card shimmered, floating for a mere second before slashing forward—severing her arm in a clean, merciless arc. Blood sprayed onto the floor, but she didn't scream. She merely grinned.
She wasn't finished.
Then—a new presence filled the room.
The air grew thick, suffocating. A slow, deliberate click of heels against marble echoed in the silence.
A figure draped in white stepped forward.
Madame Shallow White.
Her presence alone made the atmosphere feel heavy, oppressive. The woman—Sequence 2 of the Dominator Pathway.
The killer's breath hitched.
Madame White raised a single tarot card. It pulsed with an eerie glow, and as she uttered a single command, the card's power erupted.
The killer froze—completely and utterly.
Ethan felt it immediately. It wasn't just her body being controlled.
It was her mind. Her soul. Her essence.
The woman let out a strangled gasp, but it was too late.
Her very soul was ripped from her body, crushed into nothingness.
The fight was over.
Madame White flicked her wrist, the remnants of the killer's existence fading into dust.
"Good job, team," she said smoothly, her voice cool and unbothered.
Victor groaned as he pushed himself off the wall, brushing the dust from his coat. He nodded in agreement, not even bothering with a sarcastic remark this time.
Ethan exhaled. It was done.
The Final Message
As Ethan stepped away from the scene, exhaustion pressing against his bones, he felt something strange—a weight in his pocket.
Frowning, he reached inside.
His fingers brushed against paper.
A small, bloodstained note.
His heartbeat quickened as he unfolded it.
The message was simple.
"You have seen the pattern. Now, will you continue it?"
Ethan stared at the words, his grip tightening.
The case was solved.
But the doctrine… lived on.
As they left the scene, Timmy the dove fluttered alongside them, his small wings beating steadily in the cool night air.
He turned his beady eyes toward Ethan. "So, detective, what do you think the killer wanted?"
Ethan exhaled slowly, still gripping the bloodstained note in his pocket. His mind turned over the question, unraveling the implications behind it.
"Maybe it was never about wanting anything," he murmured. "Maybe it was about proving something."
Timmy tilted his head. "Proving what?"
Ethan's gaze lingered on the empty church behind them, where the last of the Eldersons had perished.
"The nature of evil," he said, voice quieter now. "Is it just the absence of good, or is it something else? Something… inherent?"
Timmy flapped his wings. "So you think this was all just some twisted philosophy in action?"
Ethan let out a humorless chuckle. "Maybe. Or maybe it was divine hypocrisy at work. If a god allows evil—permits it, even demands it—does that make Him good? Or does that make Him evil?"
Timmy didn't answer.
Ethan's fingers curled slightly. His mind drifted back to the fight, to the tarot card in his hands, to the moment he had struck the killing blow.
"Besides," he muttered, half to himself, "if we hunt down a killer and kill them, is that really justice? Or is it just another sacrifice in a grand design?"
Timmy remained silent for a moment. Then, with a small sigh, he muttered, "You think too much."
Ethan gave him a tired smirk. "That's my job. Or maybe you're upset because you were created by 'god almighty'."
And with that, they walked into the night, leaving behind a crime scene where the case had ended—but the doctrine remained.